SheWolf: the Flying Dutchman
by Scotland's Fiery Rose
Summary: A short story, with few chapters. An intro to future stories. Marian Moray, lady pirate and leader of the Sea Wolves, runs afoul of the Flying Dutchman and orders a suicidal attck. But nothing is as it seems! Broadsword Bree belongs to Bad Luck Bree! R&R!
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One: Ghost Ship Sighted!

"Captain? There be somethin' amiss out a quarter stern"  
The voice was deep and powerful, accented with a thick Norwegian brogue, and the person it came from was no less imposing than he sounded. He moved with supple grace through the shrouding mists and though he was nearly seven feet tall, was as silent as a cat when he stepped. Muscular, clothed in furs and leathers, with a mane of blonde hair and a mustache tied at the corners of his mouth by metal bands, he was an archetypal Norseman, as if one of the old legends had come to life. Across his broad back was slung a war hammer.  
The Creachadair cut like a knife through the icy mists, her keel cleaving through small clumps of ice floes. Her gray sails blended right in with the wintry sky and misty air. She was a right trim ship, a galleon of warlike proportions and trimmings, her forty guns ready for anything save Judgement Day itself. Ice crusted the rails and wheel, and snow gently banked on the spars and bowsprit. She was a formidable pirate ship, feared and sought abroad, but her purpose was not piracy. Her purpose was to sail the seas vexing the East India Trading Company until the end. THey were raiders, they were warriors, they were renegades and sailors all...but not pirates. The Norseman grinned. He knew what his captain would say if he even suggested the term pirate to her. THough it was obvious that they were considered pirates, the captain would have a man flogged if he so much as hinted that they were on the same level as Blackbeard or Roberts. The captain had high ideals, high even for a Scot.  
"Whae is it now, Ulf me lad?" a femal voice chuckled. The shadow at the prow turned and faced her First Mate with a bemused smile. "Are ye scared o' Beluga whales? That's all I be seein' in these parts, I fear. Nae even a decent East Indiaman we could bully." Her voice sounded disappointed.  
"I'm sure there will be one close by." Ulf growled. "It's easy to smell their stench from a distance"  
"Above yer own? Hoots, ye must be good." the captain retorted.  
Ulf smiled broadly. "Aye, and I've the eyes of a hawk. Which is why I'm tellin' you there's somethin' amiss out here"  
"Such as, Mister Larsen? Flyin' Beluga whales"  
He sighed. "Cap'n, I can tell ye now that I saw somethin' that looked awfully like a ship movin' about three hundred yards off our starboard side, leeward. I couldn't make out any colors or anythin' 'cept that fact that it's there an' possibly doesn't know we're here"  
The captain's eyes narrowed to blue-gray slits and she strode over to the starboard rail, gazing out at the fog. The chilled wind played with her auburn curls and made the feather in her black gold-trimmed tricorne wave. When she turned back to her first mate her eyes were a golden amber.  
Ulf did not react. This was fairly normal for Captain Marian Moray.  
"Keep a weather eye out an' have the crew ready for anythin'. Ye know how it works." she growled, as the gold faded from her iris.  
Ulf nodded grimly. He reached back and touched the head of his hammer. "Son of Thor will be ready for sure." He loved his hammer dearly, given the fact that it could break a man's skull in a single swing. Or worse.  
Marian walked past him and felt her fingers curl around the hilt of her claymore. The hair on the back of her neck was stiff and arched. She had scented an alien presence on the wind; dumb rotters, whoever they were, were sailing upwind. What ship could sail against the wind?  
She had an idea, but shook it off with a shiver. Ulf went down into the hold and found the ship's gunner, Angus MacGregor, waiting for him. The short, red-haired Scotsman was, as usual, clad in his Highland uniform, complete with tartan kilt and leather boots. Anyone who feared for their lives would never tease him about the kilt, or they would find a claymore thrust into one of their eyeholes. Unless, of course, one was a friend.  
"Weel?" he barked, in his typical sharp brogue. "Are we fightin' or no"  
"Depends. Cap'n says be ready." Ulf said darkly. He sat in a tall wooden chair and eyed his friend with shrewd blue gaze. "I'd be makin' sure the best guns are fit"  
"Aye." Angus said, and turned to tend to his beloved pounders.  
On deck, Marian stared off at the bleak horizon. She found her hand straying toward the silver charm that hung around her neck. It was a wolf's head, two blood red rubies set as the slanted eyes. Fenrir's Darkness, bound in a simple trinket. It strained credulity to say the least. But as Jack Sparrow had once told her, most powers are stored in small packages. The little trinket could transform her from a kindhearted lass into a raging demon in an instant. It gave her extra senses and higher abilities in combat and hunting, which was something the Sea Wolves did routinely.  
The talisman had belonged to her father, Captain Marcus Moray the Fierce, leader of the Sea Wolves in a time when pirates roamed free and the seas were tamed. But he had been killed in a terrible battle with the East India Company. More specifically, he had been killed by Lord Cutler Beckett, shot in the thigh and head by the ruthless little man. Marian had a secret evil wish to hunt Beckett down and take his head as a trophy, taxiderm it and hang it in her cabin to throw darts at. Before his death, however, Marcus had given his crew special instructions regarding a new captain. They were to send word to Jack Sparrow to find and procure his son, John Moray, who would be his successor after being trained for piracy by Sparrow himself. Sparrow had agreed, out of honor for Moray (one of the few men to save Jack Sparrow out of mere kindness), to get John. But some things had gone awry. Very much awry.  
While Marcus sailed the high seas, his wife raised two children back in Perth, Scotland: John and Marian. She had died of scarlet fever while they were babies and they had gone on to a cruel and cold orphanage. John had died at the age of seventeen of influenza. Marian was left alone and unprotected, making her the perfect target for evil men. When she was just fifteen, a man named Lachlan MacMurray had attempted to rape her as she brought water from the village well. Marian, scared for her life and gifted with a terrible temper, had struck him in the head with the bucket, and he had never moved again. Of course, the village elders, pompous windbags that they were, had interpreted this accident as a brash, unholy seed of a sinful father murdering a man of the faith. MacMurray had been a prominent member of the local presbyterian church. Thusly Marian had found herself aboard a slave ship bound for the Caribbean, to Jamaica.  
But things had turned around. Captain Jack Sparrow had found her and trained her to be a seaworthy lass. But that is another story.  
So here she was, leader of the Sea Wolves, captain and guardian of the Northern Oceans. She had a sword named Atropos, named for one of the Fates, she who cuts the thread of life at death. How fitting. Marian never liked taking another's life, but when another was set on death, it was dog eat dog. Wolf eat wolf. There were no compromises in battle.  
She came out of her reverie as a barely audible sound reached her ears.  
A click.  
A minute, tiny click, but enough to catch her attention.  
It came from the thick mists.  
She strained her eyes, which morphed from blue to amber in seconds. Heat. She detected heat. And oddly enough, the rank odor of fish.  
A fishing boat? No. The sound of the keel against the water was too heavy.  
Why did the air reek of fish?! It was all she could do to keep from pinching her nose. Heightened senses meant twice the burden.  
Suddenly the mists cleared a bit, and Marian's eyes widened. It was a ship, a large one. A frigate fit for war.  
And it was covered in slime, grime, and barnacles. Not to mention the serpents at the stern and corroded coral plastered all over the sides.  
"Sea Wolves, arm yourselves! T'is the Flying Dutchman!" she yelled, bolting for the helm.  
Ulf stormed out of the hold, eyes wide, followed by his twin brother Ulrich. Ulrich only had one arm, the right one. The other had been lost to the Kraken while he was yet a youth. Still, he was a formidable fighter.  
"What in the name of Loki the Deceiver?" Ulf boomed.  
"I just told ye, ya dimwit. To arms! Prepare tae fire on me mark!" Marian snapped.  
"We're attackin'?" Ulrich sputtered. He grabbed her wrist. "That ship has taken down many, ships much more powerful than we"  
"Mister Larsen," Marian spat through gritted teeth, her eyes flickering, "Do as I say. THey've sighted us an' if we don't go down fightin' we'd just as well sit an' wait for the Kraken. Which, sir, do ya prefer"  
Ulrich greened and drew his sword. "They're probably waitin' fer us tae turn tail an' run so's they can have a go at us wi' the triple guns. I've heard tales o' Davy Jones's strategy. I say we meet 'em head on an' give 'em a hard time gettin' us tae go down!" Angus bellowed.  
Marian felt real, cold fear gnawing at her gut. She also had heard tales of Davy Jones's way with prisoners. But if they were to go down, they would go down fighting.  
"Is there a chance that we may avoid the conflict?" the ship's doctor, Philip O'Brien, asked urgently, his Irish voice a bit shaky.  
"Nae. We've got nae chance wi' the wind against us." Ulf said sullenly. He heaved Son of Thor with a practised air, his strong arms flexing as he did.  
The crew jumped to task, loading the cannons, anything to inflict damage on the ghost ship. They were all pale and shaking, and many men were unable to load their weapons due to the trembling.  
While the chaos went on, Marian pulled out her spyglass and looked through it at the Dutchman. She could see the legendary cursed crew from here. Her stomach twisted but she pressed her lips together and crushed her fear. She did not fear death!  
She frowned. Had she just seen a flash of blond hair? No, she couldn't have. Not the way it looked...like a woman's.  
She slammed her spyglass shut and growled ferally, feeling the energies of the charm as they ignited her blood. She could feel her eyeteeth lengthening just a bit; she could feel her nails morphing into claws.  
"We are with you, m'lady." Ulrich said solemnly, raising his broadsword. Marian nodded. She loved the twins like brothers. Once she had felt a bit more strongly for Ulf, but not now. "I'd like to see 'em get past Tyr's Twins." Marian said with a grin. That was everyone's pet name for the mighty duo.  
Ulf expertly swung his hammer up, down, in an arc, and smiled. It was a mournful, grim smile.  
"Shall we take the first shot?" he suggested, with a warrior's casual air.  
Marian felt her grin spread in pure malice. "Aye. Prepare tae fire a broadside!" 


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two: Oops

"That was a perfect broadside." Marian mused, wondering how long it would take for the Dutchman's crew to come over and kill them all. The thought was more than a little perturbing.  
"Aye." Ulf said, and his eyes widened. "Behind you"  
Marian was already in motion. She found herself staring at...something. It had once been a man but was now mostly sharklike features and claws. And he had an axe.  
"D'ye want tae dance?" she snarled, and attacked. Atropos was already in a beeline for his neck.  
The Dutchman's crew appeared on deck and confronted the Sea Wolves in an instant. The men fought gallantly, each with another, waepons flashing and yells terrible to hear.  
Marian found her opponent to be very difficult. Strangely enough, he didn't seem to want to kill her, just to disarm her. Again and again she found it hard to keep her blade in her hand. "Don't feel comfy tanglin' wi' a woman, eh? Well guess what? I ain't yer average priss in petticoats! Hah!" She struck his crusted blade again and again, bits of rust flaking off with every slam. Ulf was having the time of his life, his war hammer swinging back and forth, laying flat whoever came near enough to be hit. He had the expression of a child opening presents at Christmas. Violence was the Twins's way of having "fun". Marian didn't care. Let them have all the fun they could stomach today! Tyr's Twins weren't called the Sons of the god of War for naught.  
Suddenly Marian felt someone tackle her from the side. She went down with a strangled snarl as her sword flew out of her hand. Immediately her eyes went yellow, she saw red and she hissed, her fangs elongating. Then she froze. Facing her was a...woman?  
The two female pirates stared at each other for a split second. Marian quickly sized up her opponent. She was tall, lean, blonde and very strong, and she had scars on her left cheek, almost like oversized cat scratches. She wore her hair in Nordic braids and had wide blue eyes that flashed just like Marian's. And another thing. She was part fish just like the rest of the Dutchman's crew...Davy Jones had a woman serving him? Marian couldn't believe it!  
Introduction over, Marian decided, and pounced.  
But her opponent was stronger than she looked. Marian went for the neck, biting hard. The girl grabbed her right arm by the wrist and bent it back, straining the elbow joint until it cracked. Marian had to let go of her neck and struggle to gain a hold that would break the one on her arm, which was flaming in pain. She kicked; the girl grabbed her leg with her other hand and jerked it, and Marian went down in a heap. But she was on her feet in an instant, growling, her face red and fists balled up. They locked arms and struggled, each trying to overwhelm the other with brute strength. Marian soon figured out that she was outmatched. This girl was taller than she, and obviously a lot stronger. So now it was time to cheat.  
Marian flipped out the dirk she always kept in her sleeve, smirked, and thrust in into her rival's middle. The girl hissed and glared, and pulled out the dirk, throwing it over the side. Oh, dear.  
"What's in yer head, stuffin'?" she snapped.  
"It's called a brain, an' I'm doubtin' any o' ye fishflesh got one!" Marian snapped back.  
"What possessed ye to attack th' Flyin' Dutchman"  
"Ye lot were followin' us"  
The blonde girl shook her head. "We were passin' through"  
"Oh, yes, sure. I'm to believe that Davy Jones would let a ship such as the Creachadair pass through his sights untouched. I ain't blind an' I ain't dumb! Better tae go down fightin' than snivelin' before th' likes o' ye!" Marian snarled.  
"I wouldn't tempt me to use me broadsword against ye." the blonde girl warned. "Call off the attack an' ye'll be done no harm...I promise"  
"Hoots! I ain't addled. No surrender!" Marian barked.  
"I be th' wife o' Davy Jones, an' I'm tellin' ye, call off the attack an' ye might get out o' this unscathed. Trust me. Or ye can ask Jones 'imself"  
"Wife? O' Davy Jones? Hah! Yer as daft as a twopenny brush! Hah!" Marian scoffed.  
"I am Broadsword Bree Jones to ye, woman, an' ye'll not soon forget that"  
Marian's eyes narrowed to blue slits. Maybe it was because her pride was having a civil war with her instincts. "Well, yer Highnessness, I be th' She-Wolf o' the North Seas, an' ye won't ever be forgettin' that!" Marian growled, and attacked again.  
Bree sighed. Obviously she was dealing with a fanatic. One of those "uphold honor or die trying" types. How on earth did an immature runt such as this one get to be captain of anything?

Ten minutes later.  
"This is yer fault, ye ninnyhead." Marian grumbled to herself. She was forced to stand in a line with her crew on the Dutchman's deck. Miraculously, none of them had been killed, just restrained or knocked out. Tyr's Twins, however, were not satisfied. Ulf and Ulrich, flanked by Angus, stood alone from the rest, defiant scowls set on their scarred faces. Angus leered at the Dutchman's crew, as if daring one of them to insult his kilt.  
Bree looked them over with a relieved expression. Stubborn, die-hard Scots and Norsemen...they were tough to be sure. She felt at home seeing their North-bred faces and hearing their dialects. Poor Hadras had been mercilessly pummeled by the bloke with the hammer. They had wrestled it from him at last, but not until two of them had nearly been decapitated by a crushing blow. Marian squirmed as Jones himself came to the line. She had not seen him in the battle, but most of her crew had. Bree had had her cornered most of the time, so this would be her first encounter. Well then! She make a lasting impression.  
Bree rolled her eyes. "I found th' captain. Her." She pointed at Marian. "Seems they were goin' for a noble death in glorious battle"  
"What idiocy are ye tryin' to pull?" Jones growled, seeing the steadily-healing gash in Bree's waist. His temper flared as he stared down the little Scotsgirl who had harmed his wife.  
"I ain't answerin' to ye or nobody!" Marian said, and cringed. Her voice was little more than a petrified squeak of indignation.  
"See? I've tried explainin' to her but 'er head's hard as bricks." Bree sighed. Jones could detect a bit of humor in her eyes, though.  
"Ye can go stick yours in a peat bog!" Marian snapped.  
Jones faced the auburn-haired young woman dead on, and she clammed up, her face white and her forehead covered in sweat.  
"Who in blazes are ye anyhow?" Jones demanded.  
"I...be...the She-Wolf...Cap'n Marian Moray. Daughter o' Marcus Moray th' Second." she stammered.  
"Not much of a name." Jones mused. "Never heard o' ye"  
"Well now ye have! Lemme up an' I'll show ye why I'm feared! The East India Company don't call us a bunch o' were-wolves for naught! Come on! Gimme my blade an' have a go! I'll beat any o' ye to a pulp any day!" Marian spat, her temper rising at Jones's mention of her name.  
Everyone laughed. Bree looked on, slightly sympathetic as the girl's face turned beet red, her wounded pride festering. "Come on! Or are ye afeared o' someone who's Jack Sparrow' apprentice?" Marian sneered as a final offer.  
"Jack Sparrow?" Both Bree and Jones said at once.  
"Aye. He's the one what got me here an' showed me how to work a ship"  
"Seems he failed to pass on his smarts." Clanker muttered.  
"I heard that! D'ye want to dance? Gimme my claymore!" Marian sputtered, and it was all Angler could do to hold her back.  
"Now, now, lads, stop teasin' the lass. She's scared stiff an' ye know it." Bree said, turning to her husband. Davy looked amused. Marian was like a flaming ember that wouldn't stop scalding even when wet.  
"I ain't scared! Bah! Hmph!" Marian snapped, stomping.  
Jimmylegs turned suddenly and jumped, pretending to raise his whip at her, and she flinched, more like a twitch. The Dutchman's crew snickered.  
Jones approached the spitfire girl, trying not to appear amused. He glared sternly and used a tentacle to raise the girl's chin. "Ye have a stout heart, lassie, but you're throwin' sense t' the wind"  
"I don't need sense to win." Marian said, her voice a mere squeak of protest.  
"Ye aren't fightin'. Ye're in no danger here. I don't see the wisdom in pressin' a fight." Jones warned her.  
Marian scowled, her blue eyes misting over gold.  
Jones stood and turned to his crew. "Brig!" he snapped.  
Bree stood by him and smiled as the crewmen hustled the Creachadair's men, and the captain, down to the cells. "What nincompoop put her in command o' a ship? By the powers, she's addled." she said.  
"Ye weren't so settled down an' civilized once, either. Nor was I." Jones said in a low voice.  
Bree nodded. It took love and care to bring a flaming temper like that down to earth. "I don't think she's got much o' anyone in the way o' family, from the way she's actin'. What'll we do with 'em? Keep 'em down below a bit an' let 'em go"  
"Aye. Let those flames simmer a bit an' they'll die down. Unless, o' course, she's as stubborn as ye"  
"Ye're bein' a hypocrite. Yer head's harder n' a lump o' rocks." Bree teased.  
"Aye, an' we're both a couple o' hopeless cases when it comes t' that." Jones said, drawing her close. 


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter three: She-Wolf unleashed!

Marian sat in a damp corner of her cell, brooding, her eyes flashing blue and yellow at intervals as her temper went up and down. The crew was silent, fearful, cramped in this horrid place. Ulf and Ulrich were at their captain's side, as usual. They were loyal to her even when she was a complete pain.  
"We have to get out o' here." Marian said hoarsely. She cleared her throat. "Care tae help me, gents"  
"I would, but-" Ulf hesitated. "I do not wish to cross Jones. He said he would let us go after a while"  
"Oh, aye, an' pigs just sprouted pink fairy wings an' flew. No! I ain't believin' nae Sea Devil's lies! He's the one what takes the souls o' sailors an' binds 'em to this accursed tub! Lookit the crew! I ain't stayin' to be some half-human waste o' life!" Marian snapped.  
"Bree assured us." Ulrich said.  
"Bree? That wench? She's probably in on his scheme! Power an' rule o' the seas an' all that." Marian said haughtily.  
"She swore on her mother's blade that we would come to no harm." Ulf said.  
"I still ain't believin' her." Marian growled, drawing her knees up to her chin. Her pirate clothes were soaked and she was constantly flicking off little crabs and sea worms. "I hate this place"  
So she stood angrily and began to fiddle with the brig lock, which did not give way. "Blast!" she hissed.  
Then she had an idea. A glorious, wonderful idea.  
"Oh," she moaned, putting her hand to her forehead. "Oh-oh"  
"Cap'n?" Ulf asked, perturbed.  
"I feel...I feel..." she gasped, and fell over in a heap.  
Ulrich knelt and with his single arm tried to wake her, gently pushing her. "She's passed out. I can't get her up"  
"What's it now?" Koleniko barked, coming down into the brig. He saw the fallen girl and frowned. "She has gone unconscious. She won't wake up!" Ulf said, in his voice a rising urgency.  
Bree came down upon hearing the commotion. She saw the passed out girl and grabbed the keys from Koleniko, and unlocked the cell door. She dragged Marian out and tried to revive her, but to no avail. She was barely even breathing.  
Then those inhuman yellow eyes popped open, and Bree saw pure mischief in them.  
WHUMP! Up came Marian's legs. Back flew Bree. But not for long. As soon as the wily girl had cleared the stairs Bree caught her by the arm and pulled her back. "Oh no ye don't!" she snarled. "Little trickster"  
"Lemme go! I ain't stayin' here an' turnin' into no monster! I ain't afeared o' death!" Marian snapped, pulling her arm away. "What use d'ye have for a loudmouth like me anyhow"  
"I already told ye," Bree said slowly, for emphasis, "I"  
"I ain't believin' a word o' it!" Marian interrupted, seeing Twins and Clanker come to Bree's side. She acted quickly, pulling one of Twins's swords from his belt and angling it at Bree's neck. "I ain't goin' down quietly neither"  
"Ye again!" the voice was Davy Jones's. He put himself between Marian and Bree and glared frostily at the arrogant girl. "So ye tricked yer way out o' the brig, did ya? Very good. A typical Sparrow teaching, for sure. Believe me when I say that ye will meet punishment if ye assault any o' my crew. We haven't done naught to ye an' ye know it"  
"Ye hold me against my will!" Marian shouted. "And my crew"  
"Ye attacked my ship!" Jones growled. "Ye are fortunate ye didn't attack any regular pirates, because ye'd be kissin' th' ocean floor if ye had"  
"Go clam yer porthole an' kiss an eel! I won't be caged!" Marian snarled ferally.  
Jones felt slightly reminded of Bree's similar feeling from days gone by. He understood her reasons for wanting to leave. But he wanted to teach her a lesson, one she wouldn't forget.  
"Very well." Bree said, to the surprise of all. "I give ye a deal. If ye can beat me in fightin' wi' a sword, no pistols or daggers, or cheatin', ye can go, wi' your crew. If I win, ye stay until we decide to release ye. Either way, ye're gettin' off, but I want to make it easier on ye to understand what ye're up against"  
Marian scowled. "Ye're immortal! That's a cheat in itself"  
"Let me fight the limmer." Jones growled, gently pushing Bree back. He knew she could hold her own against a strumpet so small, but to see her in pain of any sort made him want to commit murder. "Besides, Captain Moray," those words were a taunt, "Ye are no normal mortal either"  
Marian froze, and Jones knew he had hit the nail on the head. "I don't know what ye're talkin' about. Fine. I'll duel ye an' turn ye into fish mush"  
"Ye have no idea who ye're dealin' with." Bree said, her eyes narrowed. Let Jones put this brash woman in her place if he wanted to.  
"Nor d'ye." Marian shot back vehemently.  
Jones drew his huge broadsword. Marian noted its weight and size, and how she might use that to her advantage. Bree tossed her Atropos, which she had been toting around since finding it on the Creachadair's deck.  
Marian took a deep breath and clasped the pommel with both hands, feeling a thrill as she watched the sunlight gleam on her steel blade. Now to show them what they were asking for.  
She didn't wait for Jones to make the first move. He was ready for her. Before she knew it he had used her forward momentum and had sent her off to one side, vulnerable to the back. She whirled and snarled a Gael oath. She thrust and parried and slashed wildly, only to have her moves mirrored and used against her. His strength was overwhelming. Even Ulf and Ulrich would have trouble with this one!  
Marian grimaced as his blade nearly grazed her arm and blocked, then stepped lightly and swept low, cutting a scrap of barnacled cloth from his coat-tails.  
Jones saw this and did not react. He was going easy on her. Like dueling a child.  
Now to find out what she was really capable of.  
He attacked harder, faster, fiercer. Marian dodged his blade and swore aloud as she tripped over her own feet, nearly barreling head on into the path of the broadsword. Her claymore's steel met the corroded blade again and again, chips of sea muck flaking off. Jones stepped back. He was giving her a breather. She needed one; she was sweating buckets and her heart was pounding.  
Bree watched Davy as he gave her a sideways glance as if to say, Now watch this!  
He attacked swiftly, so fast that Marian only parried in the nick of time. Suddenly her sword went sailing from her hands and clattered to the deck ten yards away. Too far! And Jones was smirking.  
She felt her blood run hot and bared her teeth at him. She saw red and her fangs touched her lower lip, and she could feel her body adjust to the dark magic that was Fenrir's Darkness.  
Jones was not spooked. He had seen curses come and go, and this one was a Nordic one. But still, here he would find out what the bratty Scotsgirl was capable of in the realm of supernatural abilities.  
Bree watched, transfixed, as Marian's auburn hair slowly turned a silver hue, and her yellow eyes turned ruby red. Blood red.  
The rubies in the medallion were blazing the same color.  
Her ears were pointed and her face was sharper, more pointed. She emitted a low growl that seemed to come from the depths of Hell itself.  
"Try it." Jones taunted, wielding his blade. "I have all day, She-Wolf"  
"Ye underestimate me." Marian said, her voice a growl- and jumped.  
Jones slapped her aside with the flat of his blade, and she landed on her feet, eyes full of rage. An animal rage. Like a rabid dog.  
Which was why she then attacked Twins, and sank her teeth into his shoulder.  
Bree fought to pull the wild girl off her crewmate, and was greeted by an unearthly snarl and a frenzy of slashing claws and sharp teeth. It was like fighting an actual wolf, a demonic one! One that knew no bounds. A rabid wolf!  
Bree cried out as those teeth sank into her arm, raking her glove. She clawed the girl, but there seemed to be no pain registered. All she wanted to do was destroy!  
Then Marian was pulled back and thrown like a meat sack ten feet. She landed with a thud and a growl by the mast and blinked as if in a stupor. Davy stood over Bree, glaring, protective of his wife.  
Slowly the effects of the cursed necklace wore off and Marian fell into a sobbing heap. "I'm sorry...I warned ye...cursed...knew this would happen...can't control it once it's got full hold on me"  
Bree watched with a tight expression as the bloody gashes on her arms slowly healed up. She rose and wiped the saliva and blood off. "I'm all right." she told Davy, who was glaring daggers at the other girl.  
Bree walked over to the hysterical girl and simply touched her shaking shoulder.  
"It's all right." she said. "Ye aren't alone. Maybe we can help ye. Just give us a chance, aye? Ye aren't horrible an' beastly an' cursed. Ye aren't unfit to be helped. Aye? Savvy"  
"I'm captain o' the Creachadair 'cause me dad was. He had the same curse 'cause o' this accursed piece o' tinder-flint!" Marian hissed, yanking on the medallion. "An' it won't come off o' me! Ever since I found it it's stuck on me an' I can't pull it off"  
Then she wilted and looked mournful. "Sorry I bit ye." she whispered.  
"All's forgiven." Bree said warmly. "I would have done the same to ye if it'd been me in yer place"  
"Thanks." Marian said, wiping her face. "I think"  
Bree stood up and glanced at Davy, who had stalked over to make sure that his wife wasn't attacked AGAIN. Marian slowly met the captain's sea blue eyes and looked down, her face reddening. "I lost the fight. Deal closed. Now what"  
"Maybe," Bree said gently, "T'is time someone showed ye that curses can be turned around for good, too." 


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four: Revelations

The next morning a select few of the crew were let out of the brig, officers of Marian's choice whom she knew would not try anything stupid out of bounds. Ulf, Ulrich, Angus, "Hack n' Whack" Perrault and "Snake" O' Donnell were allowed to roam the Dutchman and accompany their captain. They explored the ship cautiously, now and again casting wistful glances at the Creachadair, which was being towed. "Like a bloody worthless dinghy." Marian grumbled.  
Bree watched as Marian stood by the rail, the twin Norsemen ever at her side like two silent, giant statues of might. Angus had sallied up to Clanker and Hadras and was staging a colorful conversation on the subject of...kilts.  
"O-ho." Hadras said, (as usual he was not using his brain when speaking!), "Lookit, a man-skirt"  
Angus's red-haired face turned almost as crimson as his scarf and he clenched his jaw. "This here, ye ninnyhammer, is th' feared tartan o' th' Hieland clan MacGregor. Ye'll nae call it a...a SKIRT or any other heinous title in me presence or I'll carve out yer eyes an' feed 'em to the seagulls! D'ye ken whae I'm sayin'?" he growled, cracking his knuckles.  
Hadras protectively pulled the shell that encased his head closer to his body. "Here, now, it ain't fittin' to go all loony over such as this. 'E ain't hurtin' nobody." Clanker butted in.  
Angus harrumphed. "Hurtin' me clan's colors an' the pride o' every honest MacGregor who's bloody bauld enough tae wear a kilt"  
"I think it looks nice." Hadras said quickly, to redeem himself.  
"Nice..." Angus mused, with a dark glare. "Hmph"  
Marian left her mates by the rail and absently wandered over to Bree, who cocked an eyebrow at the shorter woman. "Ello, mate. Feelin' better"  
"As well as can be expected." Marian sighed. She gave Bree a curious look. "I donae mean to prod in affairs that ain't me own, but, erm...how did ye...well...ye're Davy Jones's wife...why...how"  
"That's a tale worth tellin', truth be told." Bree sighed. She looked away and Marian sensed a great deal of emotion. There was a history of pain behind the issue.  
"Sorry. Ye don't have to tell me. All that matters is that ye're here an' I ain't dead." Marian said quickly, fiddling with her red sash. "I'm too curious for me own good"  
"Bootstrap'll tell ye all." Bree said, jabbing a thumb at a tall and quiet crewman who kept to himself. "Let's talk about ye. From whence came ye? How's Jack? Ye said he trained ye in piratin"  
Marian told Bree everything, about her mother and brother's deaths, about the near-rape that changed her life and the murder that followed. She told her about the Sea Wolves and Jack's efforts to mold her from a defiant Scottish girl into a strong, intelligent captain. She also told her about the brief romantic period between herself and the flirtatious captain; Bree found herself agreeing, Jack could be a bugger when drunk. The whole caboodle had ended when Marian slapped Jack, and all was settled between them. As usual when it came to Sparrow!  
And there was the curse, too. It got worse on full moon nights and revealed itself when she was angry or upset. She had to constantly control herself or she would lose her reason and become a senseless killing machine. Ulf and Ulrich were her guardians and guides; they protected her from others and from herself. Ulf was the only man who could tame her when she lost herself. "An' that's all there is to know about me." Marian said with a sigh, then reddened. "Oh. Well, there's Alan"  
"Alan? Ye didn't mention him before"  
"Aye, I didn't. He's the brother o' the bloke who I killed on accident. He came a-roarin' tae kill me an' hoots, if we didn't start oglin' each other like a couple o' idjits. One night he escaped the brig an' came to my cabin to kill me then an' there. I pretended to be asleep an' he stood over me, a dirk in his hand, breathin' hard an' shakin' an' ready to end me life. I wanted to scream for Ulf an' Ulrich but I couldn't. My voice wouldn't come. An' ye know what? He didn't kill me. He couldn't. He left wi'out a sound an' even locked 'imself back up. He told me he couldn't bear to see me dead e'en after he'd been dreamin' o it for so long. Said 'e couldn't live wi' himself if he'd done it"  
"What happened to him? I don't see him 'ere." Bree wondered.  
"He went back to Scotland to join the Navy. I miss him. Sometimes I wish he'd come back an' then I could lock 'im up an' keep him there forever." She sighed. "Not really, o' course. 'E was handsome, too; long dark hair, brown eyes...an' he was a pansy when it came to fightin', bless 'is heart. An' 'e was one o' the few men who wouldn't run when I lost meself an' turned all...all ravenin' an' mad"  
Bree found herself smiling. "Ye're in love wi' him"  
"Aye, an' don't it stink? 'E's a lily-livered Lowlander what can't even handle a bloody claymore right an' I'm sick for 'im! Aye, an' 'e's the most wonderful man I ever met!" Marian wailed, hitting the deck rail. A hermit crab fell and splashed into the sea.  
Bree shook her head. "Sounds like ye're in deep. I wish ye luck wi' that"  
"Luck, shmuck. I ain't had luck since the day I passed frae th' womb!" Marian grumbled.  
Bree laughed, so hard that Marian was bewildered. When she stopped she smiled and shook her head again. "Before I was Broadsword Bree, I was...Bad Luck Bree. For a reason"  
"Bad luck? Here, take some o' mine- there's plenty spillin' around!" Marian said, brushing herself off as if to get rid of cooties.  
Bree laughed and noticed that Davy was looking at her from the forecastle, a slight grin on his face.  
She excused herself and went to his side, resting her head on his shoulder. "She ain't as bad as she makes herself out to be. Just a bit inexperienced an' flighty. An' in love, too"  
"She ain't the only one." Jones said in a low voice, as a tentacle reached up and stroked Bree's face.  
"Aye, an' I think it's contagious." Bree said, smiling.

Maccus came up to Ulf and the two men stood silent for a moment.  
"That your hammer?" Maccus asked, studying Son of Thor.  
"Aye. An' it works mighty well." Ulf rumbled.  
He looked over at Maccus's axe. "That your axe"  
"Aye. She's a beaut in battle"  
More silence.  
"My hammer is named Son of Thor." Ulf said.  
Maccus seemed perplexed. "I ain't never named me axe"  
"You should." Ulf said thoughtfully. "A man knows his weapon once he's named it"  
Maccus pondered this is Ulf stalked away.  
"Hm." he said. He would have to think hard on this. A name for an axe??

Marian sat spellbound as Bootstrap Bill told her the tale of how Bree had come to the Dutchman, had endured torture and pain, had nearly driven herself and the captain mad over love. She found herself feeling small in the shadow of this great warrior woman who had tamed the Sea himself. She cried when she heard certain parts and felt her heart swell as he finished with the triumph and return. She was amazed. Jack had married Jones and Bree? It was incredible! He had never told her. Then again, Jack didn't tell people a lot of things.  
Bootstrap fell silent and studied the face of the girl before him. She was pretty, but in a wild, rugged way; her nose was not graceful, nor were her brows thick or slender, nor was she strikingly beautiful. A very average girl. But yet not. Beneath her visage flickered the flames of a spirit not used to being tied down. Bootstrap knew plenty about those sorts of spirits...Bree herself was one. For some reason he felt a grave sense of need over Marian, as if she needed protecting. From herself.  
Marian cocked an eyebrow at the crewman. "What"  
"It ain't often a new female face shows up on this ship." Bootstrap said. "O' course, there's Caylie an' her lot"  
"Who's Caylie"  
"Jones's niece"  
Marian sighed. "Ain't ever met her, mate. I haven't met lots o' people that share these seven seas wi' me. I ain't captain o' the Sea Wolves by choice. I was ready to give up the title but after I put on this here trinket, I was stuck. Only the captain can wear an' use it. Me dad was able to use it without goin' crazy; I guess I must be too weak an' inexperienced for its power. That's what I hear from a lot o' blokes what look at me"  
"A curse can bear a terrible price. I know." Bootstrap said in a low voice. "Is there any way o' liftin' it, I wonder"  
"Oh, that's the rich part." Marian laughed haughtily, bitterly. "Y'see, I'm immortal an' wild as long as I'm a virgin under this curse. If I give meself to any man, or am forced, I become vulnerable to any passin' bullet. That's why me dad was killed. He an' me mum had me an' me brother John, rest his soul"  
"Is that why ye keep those two near ye? For protection"  
Marian mumbled something cross about the "protection" bit (she hated it when men climbled onto their "small and weak female" platforms) but did not snap at him. "Aye. An' they keep me in check when I'm...not meself"  
Bootstrap watched as she got up and stalked up on deck, her curls flopping against her back as she strode. He felt his mouth quirk slightly into a smile. Females. Always full of surprises.  
Still, though, he couldn't shake the feeling that something bad was about to happen. And it would involve Marian. 


End file.
